


Rachel Of The Abbey

by iamisaac



Category: Abbey Girls - Elsie J Oxenham
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac





	Rachel Of The Abbey

“Is it wrong of me, Mrs Brown?” 

Rachel sat on the Abbey steps, Jen Marchwood at her side. It was a bright spring morning; she could see a pair of blackbirds building a nest in the Damaris garden; hear the new lambs bleating on the hillside.

“Wrong? No;” but Jen's voice was thoughtful rather than resolute. “Not wrong, Abbey Guardian, but in these times unusual.” She paused. “Usually, what people say at this point is that you just haven't met the right man. I remember the President, and later Joy – later still my good self – arguing strenuously against marriage. But we changed our minds.”

“Yes,” said Rachel quietly.

Jen glanced at her. She knew Rachel had made a big effort in unburdening herself; no one had ever turned to Jen for understanding in vain, and it would not happen now.

“But I think you're right,” Jen said quietly. “You already have children – oh, I don't mean your book girls, though that's a part of you too. I mean the others: my Rosemary, for a start; Jansy... the girls who come to you, always, when they need something. You may not be a mother but in a very real way you're a guardian.”

“You do understand,” Rachel said with relief. “But – the husband part, Lady Jen?”

“I knew someone,” said Jen reminiscently, “in town – she was a teacher at Cheltenham. This high” - she indicated a point two feet from the ground - “and able to get men to do anything for her, 'the dears'. She said she loved men, all men, and was so very grateful not to have to live with one!”

“I'm not like that, though,” said Rachel. “I – they're perfectly pleasant, but...”

Jen pealed with laughter. 

“Oh Rachel! Perfectly pleasant! Well, if you don't meet a man who makes you feel very differently, you simply mustn't marry. Perfectly pleasant, indeed!” She took a breath. “But I think you're right – you won't.”

“I'm sure I won't.” 

Rachel thought of her sister, Damaris, who, up until the point she fell in love, might have said the same. But Rachel's love was a different thing, seeking the warmth of shared interests, of understanding – but of solitude and peace also. Even living with Marry had sometimes felt claustrophobic: Rachel lived alone now and was grateful for it.

“And it's not because you feel less.” Jen was groping for words, certain what she thought but less sure of how to put it. “You love... perhaps more than those of us with husbands and children. It might be that we look in too much at our families; your love seeks its source outwards, to the world; but your heart craves alone time.” Jen looked at Rachel and bit down the thought that perhaps it was a pity. It was Rachel, and it was most important that Rachel was true to herself. “You've married the Abbey, I think,” Jen said at last. “And the Abbey has found its Abbot.” She stood up, dusting down her skirt. “I never thought, when you brought Damaris here, broken and sad, that I was witnessing a wedding,” she said in typical Jen fashion, combining insight with humour. “But so it was. I wish you happy, my dear.”

“Thank you,” said Rachel; and when Lady Jen had left, she wandered once more among the Abbey ruins – her home, her love.


End file.
